Three Years
by Obvious Ghost
Summary: Three oneshots (Threeshot?) focusing on Griff as he grows up on the slopes of Big Mountain. When you're so young, what's it like to be an SSX rider? What's it like to have so much success? And what could possibly drive someone to give it all up?
1. White

So I had no idea this was even a fandom. But it's kinda awesome, and I'd like to post a little tribute to one of my favorite video games ever while I'm trying to rustle up ideas for Searchlight.

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**Year One: Peak One**

Blinding. Snow, sky, everything was bright, impossible to look at. Griff slid on his goggles.

The world changed. He opened his eyes wide, feeling the chill of the air and the shiver from the mountain's beauty all at once.

The field of snow stretching below was untouched, pure from the previous night's storm. Dark spires of rock jutted out from the whiteness at random intervals, but most of the peak was obscured from view by the clouds.

A bank of fog, thick and misted in the early morning, stretched out to the horizon. With the goggles' shade, Griff could see the unending sea of clouds that met the sky. Oh, the sky... If he kept his vision level, he couldn't see anything except the deep blue above and the stark white below. Anyone could get lost in the beauty, the striking contrast of the scene.

He breathed deep, letting himself take it all in for a few seconds more. Almost nothing could compare to this. The sun. Snow. Clouds. Pristine, beautiful, almost... heavenly.

And boring.

Griff turned his board sideways.

He couldn't help himself. "Blastoff!" he yelled into the freezing dawn.

Suddenly, he was _there_. The mountain was everywhere, and the white and blue was streaking past, and the wind was so cold that it wasn't even _cold_ anymore, and Griff could feel his heartbeat in his head, and the rush, the absolute rush was taking over and everything was perfect.

This was the reason. Not the beauty, but the beast, the raging monster that only woke up when he was moving, really flying. The other riders thought he was just a goofy kid, looking for a better cheap thrill than caffeine, and the weird thing was... they were absolutely right. The mountain was candy, it was the ultimate sugar high, and Griff never felt more alive than he did right now.

Had the sky ever been this clear? Had anything ever moved this fast? Had any place on earth ever been this new, and shining and bright?

He was approaching the jump. It took his breath away every time, and he was practically shaking with excitement. The snow was sliding past, faster and faster and the horizon was rushing up to meet him-

Nothing. Space. He was completely free, lost in the sky, and the world was spinning and turning around him, and there was nothing but the clouds and the blue and the sun, flipping over and back until Griff closed his eyes and just let it all _be_.

A single thought pierced the serenity in his mind. _The clouds._

He couldn't see where he would land.

For a second, fear shot through him, but even this was part of it. The danger, the unknown was flooding him until he felt like he wanted to scream and sing and laugh all at once, and he finally opened his eyes to watch the fog bank rise up and surround him.

As soft as a kiss, the board landed on the powder, gracefully coasting to a slower speed as Griff leaned back. "Money shot," he grinned, exhilarated.

Nothing could be better than this.


	2. Black

**Year Two: Peak Two**

There was really nothing but wind. It couldn't be snow- snow didn't tear sideways, exploding in white sleet anywhere and everywhere. Griff could hardly see a thing- not the ideal conditions for flying down a racetrack like this one.

Of course, he'd heard about the Intimidator. The killer forest that gave riders nightmares, the mindbending turns and loops, the storms that seemed to reign 24/7. But finally seeing it up close; this place was insane.

_Can't slow down. Can't slow down._

Leaning slightly forward, head turned at an angle to avoid the full brunt of the wind, Griff sailed through the valley, steep walls rising up on either side. He could feel the adrenaline rushing through him, every part of his body on high alert like a surge of electricity. _Can't stop. Keep going faster._

The blizzard was thick, keeping the world faded behind a blank curtain of shifting static. He'd been avoiding the jumps, and even the rails, mostly sticking to the center of the track. His gloved fingers were splaying out, curling in one by one, and his back foot twitched suddenly, jerking the board to one side.

Something was off. Griff shook his head, trying to focus on the course around him, but he could feel that something was different. He was still chasing that high, the indescribable flood that he could only find in the snow and speed.

They were both here, in the madness of the shaking forest. So... what was wrong?

The gale was ripping at him, the cold seeping through to his skin. Even if he closed his eyes, he could feel the momentum, carrying him forward like a rocket through the silver storm. Speed and snow, snow and speed.

Maybe he was just being too careful. Griff set his sights on a lighted jump, barely visible ahead. _Can't slow down._

The tension, the stress was building, but not the excitement. He felt himself being stretched, pulled apart, energy buzzing through him like thousands of needles. As he crouched lower, he could suddenly picture a candle, its bright flame dancing in the wind.

The ramp was closer. The light of the candle flared, then vanished completely into darkness.

Only yards before the edge of the jump, he heard a thundering _crack_. The trunk of a colossal pine tree, battered and weakened in the storm, crashed into the snow, sending a blast of powder flying through the air. Griff tried to slow down, to turn his board, but his momentum carried him forward, slamming his arm against the fallen tree.

_Can't... slow down..._

It all seemed to happen in an instant, and he was suddenly falling. Sliding, drifting down the snowbanks, vainly grasping out with one hand for anything to slow his fall. Finally, he came to rest against the side of another curve of the track.

Griff couldn't move. His arm was aching, and he knew he had to get up, but his mind was spinning. Every rider had spills, but this was something more. It had all been too fast. But he was... the thrill seeker. The Blur. He was supposed to...

He watched the storm howl above him.


	3. Gray

**Year Three: Peak Three**

"Nothin' shines brighter than gold, huh?"

The lodge was quiet, most riders having already gone home. Nate was leaning on the back a chair, grinning. "Heck of a race, bud."

Griff stood in front of the fireplace, turning a small glass case over in his hands. "It's not gold," he said quietly. He tossed the medal over his shoulder.

Startled, Nate barely caught it before it hit the floor. He frowned when he saw the silver light, reflecting in the case's surface. "Second? Thought you won."

Griff sighed. "Yeah." The fire was starting to die down, but he kept staring into the embers. "They said no one'd ever run the Throne that fast before."

"But..." Nate blinked, realization setting in as he set the platinum medal on the chair. "Wow. Kid, that's-"

"I know." He said it bluntly, without any emotion.

A half-burnt log shifted and fell, kicking up ashes and making a crackling noise. Nate stared down at his boots, suddenly uncomfortable. "Well... congrats, anyway. Dunno why you're not more excited."

Griff shook his head, breaking his gaze away from the fire. "Yeah. Sorry, I'm just- guess I'm tired."

"Fair enough." Nate smiled halfheartedly. "Sure you're okay?"

His shoulders seemed to tense up for a moment, but Griff simply nodded.

"Cool." Nate glanced at the door. "So, uh... We're gonna head to Ruthless tomorrow. Throw down some backcountry, y'know?"

Griff pocketed the medal, smiling briefly. "I'll be there."

Without waiting for a response, Griff turned back to the fire. Why was he so drawn to it? These dancing orange lights, growing smaller and smaller over time... Actually, the more he thought about it, the more it seemed to make sense.

He shouldn't have lied to Nate. He'd been Griff's friend since the start of the circuit, and he'd said that everything was fine. But... could he really understand? Did anyone else know what it was like to feel this? Like he'd been slowly falling apart, running out of air, but at the same time burning too strong, too fast. This gaping hole, an emptiness that only grew with every race, every trophy- how could he describe something like that?

He took the medal out again, staring at the glare on the edge of the case. For this race, at least, he was the king. Fastest. Number one.

Everything he'd ever wanted, but...

"Hey, Nate-" His voice broke, and he tried to cover it up with a cough.

One hand on the door, Nate looked back. "Can I ask you something?" Griff said quickly, before he could change his mind.

"Sure."

The words vanished from his mind, and he had to struggle to bring them back. "D'you ever-" He grimaced. "Ever wonder if this is really it?"

He could tell from Nate's look that the question didn't make sense. "I mean, uh, are you sure the circuit's what you want?"

Nate scratched his head. "Well, yeah. Wouldn't be here if I didn't wanna ride, bud."

"Right." All he could think about was the fire behind him, slowly burning out, darker and quieter until there was nothing left. "But- it's just, I..."

His voice trailed off miserably. Griff stared at the floor, wishing he hadn't said anything.

"Think you might leave the circuit?" Nate said slowly.

He didn't sound mad. "I don't know," said Griff.

Snow was starting to fall outside, gentle but thick. Nate took a deep breath. "Huh."

Seeing the snow, something in him wanted to be out there, riding again. Flying over the slopes, not a care in the world- but he knew that it wouldn't be so simple. It couldn't be like it was.

"I'll tell you what," Nate said. "I've never seen anyone ride like you." Griff looked back at him, but he was facing the window too, lost in the falling snow. "You had somethin', bud. Like every time you stepped out there, it was a whole new mountain. Some of these guys, they don't smile or nothin', but you were like a kid on Christmas."

Griff shivered. "What if I don't have that anymore?"

There was a pause, and Nate shook his head. "It might come back, I guess. But you gotta do what you want."

He hadn't expected that. He'd expected shock, or even anger. Nate was going to be the one to bring him back, to convince him to stay. Instead, he was standing here, telling him to... what?

"For the record, I hope you stick around." Nate was grinning again, and his voice seemed lighter. "Think about it."

Griff felt like he was shaking, and the candle was half-burning, and it was all spinning around and around in his mind. "Thanks," he said.

Nate kicked at the fire, and one of the logs seemed to flare up with red light. "Sure." Another kick, and some of the flames returned, dimly illuminating the ashes.


End file.
